


The Nearness of You

by 10vesick



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Fluff, M/M, bartender!kun, jazz singer!ten, just guys being dudes whipped for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21777244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/10vesick/pseuds/10vesick
Summary: Kun has to admit he’s still getting used to jazz. It’s not that he doesn’t like it, it’s just not something he’d listen to if he had a choice.However, he would be lying if he said Ten’s singing didn’t make the genre a lot more appealing to him since the very first time he heard him sing.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten & Qian Kun
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	The Nearness of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightsofsilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightsofsilver/gifts).

> hello !! this is a prompt i got requested to write by the lovely night <3 
> 
> _“Ten as a singer in a dusky bar that often gets lots of soldiers, and everyone flirts with him (because I mean, he’s Ten), but he never gives them the time because he’s dating the cute bartender Kun.”_
> 
> The songs referenced in the fic are [ Fever](https://youtu.be/n0O7y8b6t6w) and [ The Nearness of You](https://youtu.be/0nK-eWID5EY), from which the fic gets its name. Please listen to them if you have the chance, for they help set the vibe of the story<3

Autumn has fallen over the town.

The deep greens are being slowly replaced by browning leaves, the air gets colder, heavier, and snow threatens to pile onto the grates lining the streets. People have started to disappear, those who dare leave their homes hurriedly moving along the sidewalk from building to building to escape the cold. Though the war has ended, there are still some minor battles raging somewhere in the continent, but for the residents of this little town, the days are blessedly boring and increasingly cold.

Although that won’t, under any circumstances, stop people from going out for a drink or two, Kun notices.

The dusky corner bar he works at is quite crowded despite the weather, but the clientele is not so unexpected for a Friday night such as this one. It’s a shabby little pub with a not-so-appealing, old-fashioned exterior and a sign hanging above that reads, _ King of Hearts. _ On the door itself, there’s a small, worn-out welcome sign accompanied by the notice, _ Live music every weekend at 11. _

Kun likes working here, strangely enough.

While old, the pub remains its own amount of classy– a sleek, dimly lit, place where those who enjoy good music and strong liquor go to whenever they need a drink after work. There are a dozen round tables taking up the main open floor in the middle, and booths of a dark red leather line up the western wall. There’s a small stage in the corner, framed by red drapes, that will later be occupied by a live band like any other Friday.

It’s on special nights, like this one, that discharged soldiers start filling the bar, most of them loud and obnoxious, only a few looking like they want to go home. There are already a lot of people in the booth seats and at the larger tables in the middle, but the unexpected guests squeeze themselves in and ask for a round of drinks Kun is quick to deliver.

After all, it’s a night to celebrate. They are here, and they’re safe, and freedom has never tasted sweeter. 

* * *

  
  


It’s exactly 11 PM when the lights pointed on the stage begin brightening, and a line of people walk on stage and take seats in front of their instruments. When the bar had had their very first live music performance, Kun had been surprised at how many people were in the band, thinking that whoever took the mic had to be an outstanding singer not be drowned out by so many musicians. 

To Kun’s surprise, Ten was. 

To say his singing’s outstanding would fall short.

Tonight, like many nights, Ten walks on stage and the audience claps and whistles. He wears a white dress shirt tucked neatly into his pants, custom-tailored and hugging tightly his waist. Those who know him and those who don’t seat at the edge of their seats, expectant to the performance they’re about to witness. 

Ten adjusts the height of the microphone stand as the lights dim down even further, a spotlight flickering to life and bathing him in its glow, making his hair shine like a halo. Even though he’s a fairly short man, his slender built and composed posture demand the attention he fairly gets. 

“How is everybody doing tonight? Having a good time?” Ten smiles, greeting everyone humbly with that alluring accent that never fails to send shivers down everyone’s back, especially when he’s singing. 

A few people shout in agreement and that makes the entire room burst into another round of applause. Kun can even hear one or two marriage proposals being called out to him, but Ten ignores them. He always does. As much as he loves the attention and the praise, he doesn’t give into it. 

“Now, is it getting a little hot in here, or is it just me?” he fans one of his hands to himself teasingly, and the soldiers around the room cheer and whistle. “Might have to open up a window before I get a _ fever _.”

And just like that, he announces his first song of the night. 

Kun has to admit he’s still getting used to jazz. It’s not that he doesn’t like it, it’s just not something he’d listen to if he had a choice.

However, he would be lying if he said Ten’s singing didn’t make the genre a lot more appealing to him since the very first time he heard him sing.

He watches with rapt attention, feeling his entire body tingle with anticipation the second Ten snaps his fingers to a constant beat, his eyes falling shut, his body swaying slightly to the soft tune the band starts playing.

When he sings, it’s all in English, voice like velvet, smooth and sultry. Kun feels a rush of warmth course through his body, and it amazes him how Ten still has that effect on him, even after so many months of listening to him sing inside this pub.

Because rather than his beauty or his voice, Kun fell for his _ presence _.

There’s something undeniably captivating about Ten as he sings. The music seems to vibrate and pulsate through his body. He swings his hips side to side as if the music was inside him, moving him at its own accord. His voice, a clear tenor, allows him to hit high notes others wouldn’t even dream of, but also sounds quite good on the lower ends as well. And when the band solos, he closes his eyes and tilts his head to the ceiling, his expression peaceful. A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips, as if he can feel the physical presence of the music ghosting through him. 

Kun always allows himself to stare at those moments, body still as he watches the pulse on Ten’s throat flutter faster as he gets ready to sing again.

It makes his heart stop.

* * *

Drinks flow thick and fast after Ten’s performance, all shrieks and giggles and strong men praising him and his singing as they invite him for a drink as the band continues playing behind them. 

Ten sits at the same stool every time, the one at the very middle of the bar, where Kun’s in charge of the drinks and of keeping them coming. He smiles brightly in front of him, charmingly overwhelmed by the people that go up to him in droves and tell him how wonderful he is, what a natural he is, how impressive. Ten acts like he doesn’t quite know what to say as he shakes their hands, and they all find it delightfully naïve. Kun keeps him in his line of sight, a quiet smile playing across his lips as he watches the younger laugh easily with everyone. He also watches when Ten’s eyes are on him, and not on whatever drunk soldier is hitting on him this time.

Because in the midst of this pub and its people, Kun is still the most eye-catching, most beautiful person Ten can see. 

He stands behind the bar, invariably a few paces away, smiling quietly and politely at drunk people as Ten has his picture taken or speaks to yet another soldier calling him pretty. Kun’s always on the fringe of the tornado that surrounds Ten, hands skillfully serving drinks and wiping tables, and Ten can’t quite drag his eyes off him the whole time. 

It’s alarming, how fast his heart beats and his breath hitches, just from watching the bartender listening to sorrowful drunks and offering encouraging words, all this while looking like everything Ten’s ever dreamed of.

Kun’s dressed in a simple white shirt being stretched out over the muscles on his chest, the bowtie under his chin almost mocking the singer. His shoulders are broad and his back strong, biceps not exactly bulky but sculpted in a way that makes Ten dry swallow. 

He stares at Kun as he pours frothy beer into a frosted glass, and it’s almost embarrassing when he gets caught and his eyes meet the bartender’s. _ Almost _. 

The next time Ten asks for a drink, Kun lets their fingers brush as he passes him the cold glass, a small seductive smile in place.

It drives him crazy. 

* * *

“Busy night, huh?”

Kun turns around, pausing in the middle of toweling a wet scotch glass to pay attention to the familiar voice calling him. It’s way past 2 AM, and the pub is already dead empty beside the bartender and the pretty singer calling for him.

Ten is leaning against the bar, resting his head on his right hand, smiling as his eyes settle on Kun’s. 

“As always,” the older replies, nonchalantly. “People loved you up there.”

Ten shrugs, lips curling up like a cat’s. “As always.”

Kun smiles, too, shaking his head a little. 

Tonight, he’s in charge of closing the bar, no one else but the two of them inside. So when Ten straightens up and makes his way behind the bar, Kun doesn’t stop him, lets him sneak his arms behind him, and rest his head against his back as he takes a deep breath. 

Ten feels the other’s heart increasing its speed and smiles. 

It’s here where he belongs, where he feels the most peace at, and Kun can only think the same. The older turns around slowly, not wanting to break the embrace, and holds up a hand to place a finger underneath Ten’s chin, so gentle and loving as he pushes his face up so their eyes can meet.

And, oh, it finally happens.

Both smile after their lips touch, because they’ve wanted to do this all night. They kiss once, twice, each time a little more deeply. Ten tastes like whiskey and candy and Kun loves the familiarity, loves to be the one that gets to savor his lips at the end of the night. 

He leans back after a lingering moment and Ten is smiling, dazed and quiet and giggly. Kun brings a hand up to Ten’s neck and brushes the skin below his hair before pressing his forehead to the other’s and both exhale happily.

Because no matter all the flirting, the praise or the attention he gets, there’s no place Ten would rather be than in his boyfriend’s arms, like every other night. 

“Want a drink?” Kun offers after a while, running his fingers through the length of Ten’s back.

The singer shakes his head. “I want to dance with you.”

“There’s no music.”

“There’s me.”

The older smiles and nods, and he lets Ten lead him to the middle of the pub. Now that the tables have been cleared and arranged for cleaning, there’s a fair space that they can use as a dance floor, just for the two of them.

Kun wraps his arms around Ten’s waist, and Ten practically melts into him. His arms wrap around Kun’s neck, envelop him in a loving embrace, and Kun can feel Ten’s voice vibrate through his body as he starts singing. 

_ It's not the pale moon that excites me _

_ That thrills and delights me _

_ Oh no, it's just the nearness of you_

_ It isn't your sweet conversation _

_ That brings this sensation _

_ Oh no, it's just the nearness of you_

_ When you're in my arms _

_ And I feel you so close to me _

_ All my wildest dreams came true_

_ I need no soft lights to enchant me _

_ If you will only grant me _

_ The right to hold you ever so tight _

_ And to feel in the night _

_ The nearness of you _


End file.
